


What Should Have Been

by gothicangeltas



Category: Bucky Barnes - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:57:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8362048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothicangeltas/pseuds/gothicangeltas
Summary: Pre-War Bucky asked her to marry him the night before he left for England. When he finally comes back, he finds he has a family he never knew about.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on a dream I had about pre-war Bucky. No other parts to follow: just a one-shot  
> I know I have other stories to finish (like Do You Trust Me?), but I had to get this out of my head

**June 14th, 1943**

Sarah Buckingham sat curled up on the couch, sipping hot chocolate and hoping it would help her sleep. For the past two months, she’d been up half the night, unable to catch more than a few hours of oblivion before having to wake up for another day as a secretary for the law offices of Laramie, Thompson, and Waverly. Mr. Waverly had been very curious to see her red-rimmed eyes but hadn’t pressed when she’d responded with a polite refusal to his inquiry. That day, just before quitting time, he’d tried another tack, “How’s that fine young man of yours? Barnes, isn’t it?” 

She’d stiffened at the name, hoping he wouldn’t notice the wince she gave at the name. “I’m sure he’s fine,” she’d said, swallowing the lump in her throat, “but he’s not mine. Not…anymore,” she’d added softly. 

He’d let it go after that, saying something about being sorry for hearing about the break-up, but she’d stopped listening, only nodding politely until he’d retreated into his office. She’d spent the last hour of work struggling to banish Bucky Barnes from her thoughts and failing miserably. She’d left on time and hurried home. Having no appetite, she’d changed out of her work clothes, pulling on an old t-shirt of Bucky’s that he’d left behind and probably forgotten about. She’d tried listening to the radio but couldn’t focus. With a sigh, she’d curled up on the couch, remembering that last day: 

_They lay on her bed, her head pillowed on his chest while her hand played idly with the hairs on his chest. His right arm had been tucked under his head while his left had held her, his hand toying with the dark strands of her hair. Biting her lip, she took a deep breath. “Bucky?”_

_His hand slid to the nape of her neck, those long fingers of his gently stroked her skin. “Yeah, Doll?” she could hear the smile in his voice as she shivered at his touch. “Buck…do you…” she stopped, swallowing hard._

_She heard him sigh, and he moved until he lay beside her. He tilted her chin so their eyes met. “What is it, doll?” he asked softly, “what’s wrong?”_

_She shook her head, “nothing’s…wrong, it’s just…” she bit her lip again, “do…do you ever think about the future…our future, I mean?” she added softly._

_He closed his eyes on a sigh as he rolled, pulling away from her, “Doll…we talked about this.”_

_She winced, frowning at his withdrawal. “But…Bucky…”_

_“No, you know how uncertain things are,” he said, rising from the bed. She watched him pull on his boxers and reach for his pants. “With the war…”_

_Sarah tugged the sheet higher up over her breasts, hugging the cotton close, “people are getting married every day. Betty and Chris got married just before he shipped out. He told her he wanted her to have his name…in case…in case he didn’t come home,” she finished, her voice fading as she watched him dress, now shrugging into his button-down shirt, his t-shirt forgotten._

_The tails of his shirt hung out of his pants, the belt still undone. He sat on the edge of the bed. “Is that what you want? My name? Some fond memories in case I don’t come home?”_

_“It’s just…we’ve been together so long…I thought…” she shook her head, heat tingeing her cheeks bright pink. She looked down where her hands clutched the sheet, unable to meet his eyes. “I love you, Bucky,” tears pricked her eyes._

_He sighed again, his hand on her cheek forcing her gaze to his. “I love you, too, doll, but I don’t want to do it this way…not when I might not come back. You deserve better than that.”_

_Her dark eyes searched his blue ones. “What if I’m pregnant? Wouldn’t you want your son to have your name?”_

_He blinked, “are you?”_

_She thought about lying, anything to convince him, but she couldn’t do it. She wanted him to love her enough to give her his name, not just his body. She shook her head, “No, but…”_

_It was his turn to shake his head before rising from the bed, buttoning his shirt and tucking it into his pants. “Then, there’s no reason not to wait,” he said. He bent, retrieving his shoes and draping his jacket over his arm. His smile was sad as he looked at her. “Sarah…” she turned away, refusing to look at him. The edge of the bed dipped with his weight as he sat again, “Sarah, honey…” He brushed her hair away from her face._

_She refused to look at him. Swallowing hard, she said, “I think you should go.”_

_“Doll, don’t be this way…” his hand on her chin tried to bring her gaze back to his, but she pulled out of his grasp._

_Her eyes were full of tears, but she wouldn’t let him see her cry. “Go home, Bucky,” she insisted._

_He sighed, and she felt the bed move as he rose. “We’ll talk about this tonight. I’ll pick you up at 6, and…”_

_“No.”_

_The word was soft, but he’d heard. “No, what?”_

_“No, we won’t talk about it, and no, you won’t pick me up.” To hell with it, she thought, her heart breaking. She looked at him then. He was blurry, but after she blinked and her tears fell, she could see him clearly. “We’re done.”_

_“You don’t mean that, doll,” he chided, blue eyes wide._

_“I do mean it,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. She looked down at her hands folded primly in her lap and closed her eyes. Tears spilled from her closed lids. “Goodbye, Bucky.”_

_The silence was deafening. She wanted to curl into a ball and sob. She wanted to throw her arms around him and never let him go. She sat, and after a moment, she felt his thumb tracing the trail of her tears before he cupped her check in his palm. “Goodbye, Sarah,” he whispered. His lips brushed her forehead and then he was gone._

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK 

Sarah blinked as she sat up, running her hands over her cheeks and wiping away her fresh tears. “Who is it?” she called, rising from the couch and heading for the door. 

Silence. 

She frowned before slowing her step, stopping almost a foot from the door. “Is someone there?” 

She could hear someone shuffling their feet. She’d just taken a step closer to the door when he spoke, “Sarah…it’s me.” 

She froze, one hand halted in mid-air before completing the motion to open the cover over the peephole. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw Bucky standing there. He was in uniform. Her hand shook as she slid back the chain and opened the door. “Bucky…” Her eyes devoured him. “James,” she corrected herself. She had no right, not anymore… “You’re…you’re in uniform.” Her voice broke. 

His lips twitched. “107th, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.” His eyes held hers. “Can I come in, doll?” 

She nodded, stepping aside and pulling the door wider so he could come in. She watched him walk through the doorway, taking off his hat as soon as he passed the threshold. She closed the door and leaned against it, watching him walk into the living room and stop at the couch, wincing as he picked up the pillow that was still damp with her tears. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly before walking into the room. “This is a surprise,” she said, tugging at the hem of the shirt. It came to just below the tops of her thighs. 

“Nice outfit,” he chuckled, and her eyes snapped up to see his gaze sliding slowly down over her bare legs before coming back up again, stopping only when his eyes, now a darker blue, met hers. “You look great,” he said huskily. 

She remembered that look, what that husky tone meant. She looked away, hardening her heart against it. “Thanks,” she moved to sit on the edge of the couch, tugging the edge of the shirt so it covered her knees. “Don’t think Connie would appreciate you saying that, though.” 

“Probably not,” he agreed, sitting beside her on the couch but keeping an arm’s width of distance between them. “But what she thinks isn’t really important anymore.” 

Sarah’s eyes snapped to his face, surprised. “Why not?” 

He dropped his gaze to his hat in hands and turned it in a slow circle. “Broke up with her tonight. Didn’t think it was fair.” 

She nodded, watching him turn his hat in his hands. “Because you’re leaving,” she finished for him. 

“No,” he corrected her, “because I’m in love with someone else.” He dropped the hat on the coffee table and turned to her. “You.” 

Her gaze flew to his then away again as she felt the tears threaten. Love had never been an issue between them. “James…” 

“Look at me, doll,” he said softly, but she wouldn’t turn. He sighed and slid closer to her. “Sarah, these past two months, all I’ve done is think about you, about us.” He took her hands in his, his thumbs rubbing gently over her knuckles. “Please, look at me?” 

She shook her head, biting her lip and keeping her gaze on their joined hands. It felt so good to have him here, to feel the heat and strength in those hands. She wanted them on her body so badly, but that wasn’t enough. She heard him sigh softly, and she bit her lower lip even harder when he pulled his hands away. His hands came back a moment later, a small black jewel box in his hands. Her eyes flew to his. “Bucky?” 

He smiled that crooked smile he’d worn that first time he’d asked her out. He dropped to one knee in front of her. He popped back the top on the box, revealing a small diamond on a thin gold band. “Would you be my wife?” he asked softly. 

Her gaze fell to the ring, back to his face, and back to the ring again. Her hands shook as they came forward, resting lightly on his hands but not anywhere near the ring. She raised her gaze to his face again. “What…I don’t…” 

Again, that small mocking smile curved his lips before it faded. “I love you, Sarah. Always have.” He smiled again, sadly this time, as his gaze dropped to their hands. “I’ve been thinking about that last time, what you said…what we said.” He shook his head, bringing his gaze back to hers. “I don’t know what’s going to happen over there.” He frowned, glancing away before meeting her gaze again. “I _do_ know that I want someone to come home to…someone who’ll miss me while I’m gone.” Again, that small sad smile. “Someone who loves me, too.” He slid off the couch, dropping to one knee in front of her. “Marry me, Sarah. When I come home.” He pulled the ring from its velvet bed, dropped the box so it rested beside his hat on the table, and held her left hand. “Be Mrs. James Buchanan Barnes.” He slid the ring onto her ring finger before enveloping her hands with his own. “Be my wife, Sarah.” 

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she pulled her hands from his to wrap her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “Oh, Bucky,” she sobbed against his neck, “I love you so much.” 

Hugging her back, he chuckled, “that doesn’t answer my question, doll.” 

“Yes!” she all but shouted, laughing as she pulled back, cupping his face in her hands. “Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” 

“Well, if you’re sure.” 

They both laughed, and then his mouth was on hers. She slid her hands into his hair as his arms slid around her waist. He pulled back, murmured against her lips, “had to seal the deal,” and then he was kissing her again. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, and they parted on a gasp. He took advantage, deepening the kiss, twining his tongue with hers. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and he groaned into her mouth. A shudder rippled through him as she sucked his tongue, and he pressed her back against the couch. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he pressed the long hard bar of his arousal against her. The buckle of his jacket jabbed into her belly, and she winced, jerking back. He pulled back immediately. Breathing hard, he muttered, “I’m overdressed.” 

“Yes, you are,” she agreed, nimble fingers undoing the buttons of his jacket while he undid the belt. He shrugged out of the jacket, draping it onto the couch beside them as she attacked the buttons of his shirt. She was halfway down before he got to his feet. She opened her mouth to protest, but then he was picking her up into his arms. She twined her arms around his neck as he carried her down the hall to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him as he went. 

**Present Day**

Bucky slid his flesh hand through his hair, tucking those errant strands behind his ear as he looked up at Stark Tower. He eyed the twin lobby doors dubiously, frowning until he recognized the figure who walked through them and toward him. 

“You’re late,” Steve Rogers said, patting Bucky on the back as soon as he was in reach. “You were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago.” 

Bucky glared at his friend before turning it on the Tower. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.” 

Steve squeezed Bucky’s shoulder. “It’ll be fine,” he said confidently. “He knows what you’ve been through.” 

Bucky winced. “That really doesn’t help.” He took a deep breath before glancing at Steve. “Come up with me?” 

“You know you don’t need to ask,” Steve chided, and the two men headed into the building and crossed the lobby. Steve hit the button for the elevator, and Bucky kept his gaze straight ahead, ignoring everyone around them. 

Bucky had grown used to the stares he received. Ever since his fight with Steve over Washington DC became common knowledge, he’d gotten looks like that as soon as someone recognized him. Since mending fences with Tony Stark, he was welcomed as a friend. As if the thought had conjured him, the elevator doors opened to reveal Tony Stark, clad in an Armani suit with a leather briefcase in hand. “Well, if it isn’t Frosty and Capsicle,” he greeted them, “what brings you to my neck of the woods?” 

Bucky and Steve shared a look. After a moment, Steve turned to Tony, “Bucky’s here to…” 

“Shit, is that today? Damn, I wanted to be here for that.” Bucky turned at that, glaring at Tony. Tony held up a hand. “For support, Manchurian Candidate…for support.” He rolled his eyes. “Can’t stay, though. Have a meeting.” He glanced at his watch then looked at Steve. “Let me know how it goes?” he asked as he walked away. Steve said that he would even as Bucky gave a disgruntled grumble. The two men stepped into the elevator. 

They got out on the 57th floor and walked down the long, glass paneled hall until they reached a set of doors. Like many others, one bore a name: Dr. James Buckingham. Bucky took a deep breath, his blue gaze locked on the name. He jumped when Steve gripped his shoulder. “Buck?” 

Bucky nodded. “It’s good. I’m good.” He took a deep breath, pulled open the glass door, and stepped through. A blonde, young and pretty, sat at the desk facing the doors. Her welcoming smile was polite. “How can I help you?” 

Bucky took another deep breath. “I’m B…Barnes, James Barnes. Here to see Dr. Buckingham.” 

Still smiling politely, she turned to the monitor on the desk. Her fingers flew over the keys as she checked the calendar. She nodded then turned back to Bucky. “One moment, let me let him know you’re here.” She tapped out something else on the keyboard before bringing her hand up to touch the Bluetooth on her ear. “Dr. Buckingham? Mr. Barnes is here to…yes, sir. I will.” She tapped the Bluetooth again before turning back to Bucky once more. “Dr. Buckingham is ready for you. Just through that door.” She pointed to another door on her left. 

Bucky glanced out the front doors of the office to see Steve giving him a thumbs up. Bucky smiled wanly, sighed, and headed for the door the receptionist had referred him to. He pulled the door open, stepped through the doorway, and stopped, unable to do anything but stare at the man behind the desk. He was broad shouldered, and had a thick head of dark hair liberally sprinkled with grey. His cheekbones were sharp, not unlike his own. The doctor was smiling as he stood, his own eyes taking in Bucky much as Bucky had done to him. But those eyes… 

_Sarah’s eyes._

“Mr. Barnes?” 

Bucky blinked, realizing the doctor was in front of him now, one hand held out, reaching for him. Bucky gripped the other man’s hand. “Doctor,” Bucky’s voice was thick. “Sorry…you…you’ve got your mother’s eyes.” 

The doctor smiled. “And her ears. She said I got the rest from you.” His smile wavered then, uncertain. 

Bucky realized he was still holding the other man’s hand and let go. He shoved his hands in his pockets as his heart hammered in his chest. “I never knew about you,” he said after a moment. “She never said…” 

“Mr. Barnes…” 

“Bucky,” he interrupted the doctor, “call me Bucky.” 

He smiled, “only if you call me Jim.” Bucky nodded, the ghost of a smile curling his lips. “Let’s sit down, alright?” 

Bucky nodded again, and Jim led him over to the two leather chairs that faced the desk, standing before one and motioning Bucky to the other. Bucky sat as Jim reached for a large manila envelope from the desk. “Jim, I…” 

“A moment,” Jim said, handing Bucky the large envelope before sitting as well. “That’s something that I think you should have.” 

“What…” 

Bucky’s own smile answered him as Jim said, “Open it and see.” 

Bucky opened the envelope and gave it a small shake. A small leather-bound book and a packet of letters tied with a threadbare and faded red ribbon landed in his lap. His fingers shook as he touched the ribbon. 

_Bucky ran his fingers down the long dark braid of her hair before tying the red ribbon into a bow at the bottom._

“Mr Bar…Bucky…sorry, I know this must be difficult.” 

Bucky looked from the ribbon back to Jim…his son. “Yeah,” Bucky agreed, dropping his gaze back to the packet of letters. He could see his own handwriting. She’d kept the letters he’d sent during the war. He opened the book and pictures tumbled out. Jim dropped beside him to help him pick them up. Bucky’s hand shook again as he picked one up. It showed three photos, one on top of the other. A couple smiled at the camera. 

_“Come on, doll, it’ll be fun,” Bucky tugged on Sarah’s arm, leading her to the small line at the photo booth._

_“I look a mess,” she chided, her hand trying to bring order to her windswept hair._

_Bucky slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close for a gentle kiss. “You’re beautiful.”_

“They’d just put the booth up at Coney Island,” Bucky said softly, unable to take his eyes off the photo. He ran his fingers over her dark hair. 

“She never stopped loving you,” Jim said, dragging Bucky’s gaze back to his. 

“She never married?” 

Jim shook his head. “Never. She always knew you’d come back.” 

Bucky shook his head. “Steve said…” 

“Captain Rogers wrote the letter himself. Said he wouldn’t have Colonel Phillips do it. But Mom said they were wrong. She knew you were alive.” 

Bucky felt tears prick his eyes. God, Sarah, he thought, swallowing hard before setting the picture on one thigh so he could open the book. It was a journal…Sarah’s journal. Bucky looked up at Jim again. “This…” 

“…was her journal, yes,” Jim said, smiling. “She’d want you to read it. It will help you understand.” 

The phone on the desk beeped. Jim sighed as he leaned over to tap the intercom button, “Hayley, I thought I told you…” 

“I know, sir, sorry, sir, but Colonel Ross is on the line. He said he needs to speak with you right away, that it’s an emergency.” 

“With Ross, it’s always an emergency,” Jim muttered as he rose, crossing to behind the desk. “Put him through,” he said, turning to Bucky. “Just give me a moment…” The phone beeped again, and he picked up the receiver, “Colonel Ross, I’m sorry, but I need to put you on hold a moment.” 

From where he sat, he could hear Ross squawking before it went silent. He couldn’t help the smile. “It’s alright.” He rose, holding the journal and packet close. “I know you’re busy.” 

Jim came back around the desk. They were the same height, Bucky idly noted, as Jim stopped in front of him. “I’d like to invite you over for dinner tomorrow, if that’s ok,” Jim said, smiling. “We’d have more time to talk, away from here,” he gestured to the office around him. “Plus it will give you time to…” his gesture this time was for the journal. Bucky nodded. “Tomorrow, yeah, sounds good.” He stepped forward intending on shaking Jim’s outstretched hand. He wasn’t expecting to be pulled into a hug. He froze. Jim started to pull away, but Bucky awkwardly patted his back. 

When Jim pulled back, his eyes were wet. “Tomorrow, then,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let me get you the address.” 

“I have it,” Bucky said, backing slowly toward the door and watching Jim retreat behind the desk. “Steve…well, I guess Stark gave it to him and Steve gave it to me.” 

Jim nodded, sitting once more in his chair. “Until tomorrow then,” Jim said, reaching for the phone even as Bucky reached the door. “Tomorrow,” Bucky repeated and fled through the doorway. 

**That Night**

Bucky sat on the couch, staring at the black and white photos fanned out on the coffee table in front of him. Steve had left the apartment about an hour ago, something about a date with Sharon. Bucky knew better. Oh, he knew Steve was seeing Sharon, but he also wanted to give Bucky a chance to go over everything Jim had given him alone. His eyes kept straying to the photo booth strip, and he had to force his gaze away, back to the others: Sarah next to Betty, holding out her left hand to the camera, showing off the ring he’d given her; Sarah, her hands curled lovingly around her very round belly; Betty standing with Sarah, a toddler with a thick shock of dark hair falling into his eyes – Jim - held in Sarah’s arms; Sarah in black, Jim in a dark suit, and Betty in a black dress while Betty held a folded flag in her arms. There were a handful of Jim at various ages, including one of Jim in a cap and gown with Sarah beaming by his side. 

Keeping the photo booth strip of him and Sarah in sight, he reached for the packet of letters. His writing. He opened them one by one, reading words he knew he had to have written but had no real memory of before putting them away. He’d loved her, promised her he would come back. 

He forced himself not to crush the envelope in his hand. He’d promised her and she’d believed him. She’d loved him. 

_“She never married.”_

“I’m so sorry, Sarah,” he murmured, the photo blurring as tears once again pricked his eyes. He wiped them away ruthlessly and picked up the journal. He read the words written on the back of the cover: 

“Dear Bucky…” 

He froze, his heart hammering in his chest. He tried again, and could almost hear the husky timbre of her voice as he began again: 

“Dear Bucky… 

I wish I could be with you when you read this. I know you’ll come home one day, but it’s too late for me to see that happen. Don’t be angry with me for not telling you about Jim. I knew you would be torn, having to choose between us or Steve. You would be so proud of Jim. So smart and brave, like you. I hope you get to know him. He’ll need you now. But we’ll be together again someday, you and I. I know that, too. I love you, James Buchanan Barnes, and I always will.” It was signed, Sarah B. 

**The Next Day**

The black Ford Mustang roared down the street, coming to a stop in front of the last house on the block. He turned off the engine and stared up at the two-story building in front of him. Bucky couldn’t tell anything about the type of house other than it was white with green trim, had a two-car garage and driveway, and a white picket fence with a rosebush on either side of the front door. 

Taking a deep breath, Bucky picked up the packet of letters and the journal from the seat beside him, and climbed out of the car. He made his way down the walk up to the front door. He found himself smiling at the rosebushes. Sarah had loved roses. He rang the doorbell and waited. 

Laughter rang out on the other side of the door, and he could hear the patter of running footsteps that stopped at the door just before it opened. Bucky looked down at the small blonde girl that stood on the other side of the door. “Hi!” she greeted him. “Who are you?” 

He blinked. “I’m Bucky. I…” 

“Grandpa!” the child yelled as she turned and ran down the hallway, “Bucky is here!” 

“…was invited,” Bucky finished lamely to the empty doorway. 

“Becca!” A young woman in her late twenties appeared in the doorway. “How many times do I have to tell you, you’re too little to open the door!” She sighed and turned to the open doorway, finding Bucky standing there. “Sorry about that,” she apologized, tucking her shoulder length dark hair behind her ear, “my daughter loves opening the door, and, well, we’re all excited to meet you.” Bucky’s mouth opened and closed, unsure how to respond. “Oh, god, Dad didn’t tell you, did he?” 

“Not surprised that your father didn’t tell the poor man that he was going to meet the whole family,” an older woman came to stand in the open doorway. With the two women side by side, there was no mistaking they were mother and daughter, even though the older woman’s hair was blonde that was just turning grey. “I’m Lucy, and this is Gwen, our daughter.” She smiled and opened the screen, giving it a gentle push until Bucky caught it, opening it wider. 

“Nice to meet you both,” he said after a moment, half wishing he’d taken Steve up on his offer to come along. “Call me Bucky, please,” he added with a smile. He cast another glance at the rosebushes before following the women inside. 

“Aren’t Gran’s roses gorgeous?” Gwen asked, falling in step beside Bucky as he looked around the large foyer. 

His step faltered a moment before continuing behind Lucy. “Gran’s roses?” 

“Mom…Sarah…” Lucy explained, “loved roses. We planted them for her when she lived with us. She took care of them every day until…” Silence fell among the trio as they rounded a corner, entering the family room. Bucky froze, his eyes not on the people in the room, but on the framed portrait above the fireplace. 

It was like the Coney Island photo, but painted on canvas. Sarah…his Sarah...young and beautiful, her dark hair falling over her shoulders as she wore the blue dress she’d loved so much…and he was beside her…young and handsome, shock of dark hair that was slicked back…his blue eyes smiling down at her as her dark eyes beamed up at him. 

The journal had been full of Sarah’s memories of him, of them together. That had been equal parts amazing and terrible. For so long, he hadn’t remembered. But when he had…she’d come alive for him again on those pages. Memories had flooded him, and something had broken inside him, grieving over what could have been… _what should have been_. 

It’s what the portrait was…what should have been. 

“I should have warned you,” Jim said, coming up beside him. 

Bucky turned to look at his son. “How…how did…” 

“Mom told us,” Lucy explained, moving to stand next to Jim. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she looked at Bucky. “She loved you so much. She talked about you all the time.” She turned to the painting. “She never forgot that day.” 

He wished with all his heart that he could say the same. Jim must have seen something in Bucky’s eyes because he slid his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky felt something tugging at the glove on his left hand, and he froze as he felt the small hand grip his much larger one. He looked down to find Becca’s blue eyes staring up at him solemnly. “It’s ok,” she said simply, leaning her blonde head against Bucky’s metal arm as she looked, too, up at the portrait. 

Bucky’s eyes burned as he looked down at the little blonde head…his great granddaughter…his son stood beside him…his family surrounded him. His family. It felt so odd to think that. The only one missing was… 

“You didn’t think I’d let you really do this on your own, did you, pal?” 

Bucky’s head snapped up as Steve Rogers came to stand next to him, his hand lightly gripped Bucky’s left shoulder. Bucky didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. His whole family was here now. He found himself smiling up at the portrait of him and Sarah and held the journal and packet of letters close. 

The End


End file.
